They called it Suffering grandiose visions
visions of grandeur, how could this be
suffering, if only they new, jealousy I say
a ship of fools from which they're ruled

Men of such grand visions paved the way
success breeds acceptance' takes the grandeur away
dream flagrantly out loud and not suceed
they'll label your mind, possibly put you away

I dare you to dream loud, with all your might
with visions of grandeur as you take flight
if you need a few words along the way, I'm here
hope we do meet and share much more, till next.

MJPease

THE EARTH THE SON and THE MOON

Inspired by and written today for all the Poets here on the Page's. Your work truley inspires and keeps my mind fertile or did I mean [img]images/smiles/icon_biggrin.gif[/img] futile [img]images/smiles/icon_razz.gif[/img]

The Doobies once sang listen to the music
while Allman's sang tribute to Elizabeth Reed
Bob Dylan labored Along the Watch Tower
CSN+Y married conscious thought with music
The Fab Four Yes! I own the complete score
Eric set the world straight down at Monterey
Jimi blazed away with purple haze as Mary cried
Morrison agonized lifes trials and tribulations
While the Floyed boys lit the stage and skies
Zeppelin took us all the way to heaven and ?
then Supertramp revealed the Crime of the Century
Genesis strolled Broadway as the lamb lied down
and the Eagles vacationed at Hotel California
America sang Oz never gave nothing to the Tin Man
Heart harmonized on the elusive Dog and Butterfly
Cream took me to the White Room at the Crossroads
Joplin took a piece of my heart with her life
as McClean mused about the day the music died
Neil Young has recently questioned us poetically
Are we passionate, are we living as we talk?
Does it bother us, when we hear our spirits talk?
A bit of classic rock memories please take us back
seems we've lost so much compassion along the way
the doves are now hawks, with missles ready to fly
listen to the music or at least the poets cry, a
one legged man in an ass kicking contest we'll be
if it's on your mind say it, write it, sing it
future is now with half a decade out of the way
If I could I'd twirl like a top on my bald head
while playing a blazing solo on a Hammond B-3
and at the same time play bass guitar with my toes
and I'd also play the sax with my ? Yeah!
you guessed it, and I would walk on water every chance I get.
Brothers and Sisters 52 listening to the music.

Line where the sky seems to meet the Earth.
A sanctuary to parallel the plane of the horizon.
A flat and even place of refuge or protection.
The crust forming over the sore, during the healing of ones sanity.
Close examination of ones mind and depth of soul.
To explore the limits of ones experience or interests.
Ones own welfare, identity, personality and soundness of judgement.
Self abregation of reality that could lead to a sarcophagus made of stone.
The line where the sky seems to meet the Earth

Lifes become a rhyme with out a reason
Possibly similar to the end of this season
For I have a bad feeling, deep with in my gut
By end of this season I will remain in a rut

As I look out of my window and onto the pond Ducks aren't so playful and sunshine there's not
Snows turned to rain, the warnings are clear
Look out for sunshine if she should ever appear

With wonderful spring sunshine, springs up so much life.
It fills us with hope and happiness, the light so bright.
Now threatens us with darkness to continue with life.
Maybe Mother Natures way of saying good night.

Revisited the Foot of West Ferry today
place Slaves escaped to freedom they say
an astral voyager my desire to be for no fee
off to a world others may have dismissed

More than two roads have diverged, I say with a sigh
One day into a deep and dreamless sleep my spirit will fly
Visions of my own epitaph illude me, for I am not complete
Age to this point enevating, many questions of life unanswered

Has God charted the course I've traveled?
Do we have a choice in the beginning?
Is it simply genetics, guided by fate?
Does it all come down to destiny?

Boisterous Seagulls beckoned me to play
not concerned for time or even what day
the gulls apparent apathy for my thoughts
tossed me a few much needed answers on this day

Time is of my consciousness not theirs
that time has come today, I prepare my last run
touched with fire, pen, paper and guitar
my epitaph for which I make my last stand

There will be room upon the hill one day
have a good feeling about this, throw me a kiss
my wish, all good people find their way to heaven one day
I believe in God and the need to pray